


Perchance to Dream

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26616214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Aziraphale admits to his friend that he wants to further explore some unusual feelings he experienced while he was in Crowley's corporation.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114





	Perchance to Dream

Crowley sat at the dining table in the Ritz, watching Aziraphale eat.

He watched as the angel popped a bite of tiramisu into his mouth, closed his eyes, and made a little sound of pleasure. He swallowed, then ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, opened his eyes, and sighed. “Ah. _Scrumptious_.”

Crowley just sat there, gazing raptly, smiling.

“Don’t you want any more?” Aziraphale shoved the dessert tray towards him.

“Nah. I’m good.” He’d had at least one bite of each dessert, all excellent. The champagne was even better.

“You know,” Aziraphale said as he speared another piece, “when I was inhabiting your corporation, I didn’t feel hungry. Most peculiar. The only time my appetite appeared was when we were at the park, and I spotted the ice cream stand. You have a sweet tooth, my dear fellow.”

“I do.” Other food, though, he could take or leave.

“And you don’t care much about anything else,” Aziraphale echoed his own thoughts. “You only take a few bites here and there.” Having finished the last of the tiramisu, he dabbed a serviette around his mouth.

“As you said, I don’t get hungry.”

“Yet you always come to restaurants with me. In fact, you are often the one who suggests dining out.” Aziraphale met his gaze. “Why?”

“Uh…er…well, it’s just….” Crowley didn’t know exactly how to explain his fascination with watching the angel consume food. He shrugged. “Just keeping my hand in at minor temptations.”

“Don’t be absurd. That’s only an old joke between us. It’s not a genuine temptation.”

_Now what should he say?_ “Just a social occasion, then. Can’t I invite you out?” That sounded odd as well, Crowley belatedly realized, as if he were asking him on a date. “I mean, you enjoy dining, and we’re friends, so why wouldn’t I go to restaurants with you?”

“Excessively,” Aziraphale replied. “And you spend most of the time staring at me. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed.”

In fact, Crowley had thought exactly that. His friend seemed so wrapped up in the enjoyment of his meals that he didn’t _look_ as if he were paying any attention to anything else. 

Maybe he ought to try going on the offensive. “So? Is that a problem?”

Aziraphale gave him a long, assessing look that made Crowley fidget uncomfortably. “There are humans who consider eating to be a potentially sensual act.”

He said it so matter-of-factly. Crowley raised his eyebrows. “We’re not _humans_.”

“We’ve been among them a _very_ long time, though, and we’ve adopted many, if not most, of their ways. I believe the term is _gone native?”_

Crowley gulped. He grabbed the champagne bottle and refilled his glass, taking a large drink. “I don’t know what you’re driving at.”

“Physical attraction, that’s what.”

Was that a _flush_ he felt creeping up his cheeks? “Angel, you don’t talk about things like that.” What had gotten into him, anyway?

“You’re blushing,” Aziraphale said. 

“Am not.” He took another swig of the champagne. “It’s just the effect of the alcohol.”

“Of course it is.” Aziraphale suddenly favored him with a beatific smile, and reached across the table to touch his hand. “It’s all right, you know. I don’t mind. Rather the opposite, in fact.”

That slight touch sent a tingle up Crowley’s spine. “You don’t?” It hadn’t occurred to him, after all these centuries of yearning, that Aziraphale might feel the same need. 

They were friends, no question, even when in hollow denial. They were the closest of friends. He had loved the angel for longer than memory could hold, and Crowley knew that angels can sense love. Aziraphale knew about his devotion, of that he was certain.

As for him, though he had lost _most_ of his ability to sense love, he hadn’t lost _all_ of it, not that he truly needed to feel those wispy tendrils emanating from Aziraphale towards him to know he was loved. All he had to do was look into his eyes.

But none of that meant more than platonic love, so far as he had believed.

Aziraphale began running his fingers over the top of Crowley’s hand in a light caress. “I confess that I’m not entirely certain precisely what I want. I doubt that you are, either.” He took Crowley’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “But I do want to find out how to be closer to you.” He smiled. “I love you.”

Crowley closed his eyes and sighed as a tremoring warmth spread through him. When he opened his eyes again, he said, “I’ve known that for a _very_ long time, Angel.”

“Yes, I wasn’t terribly subtle, was I?” Aziraphale glanced at the champagne glass in Crowley’s other hand. “And that flush on your cheeks was never caused by alcohol.”

“No.” Crowley shook his head. “Of course it wasn’t.”

Aziraphale gave him a questioning look, eyes wide. “Well? I can sense love, as I’m sure you know, but it would still be nice if—“

“I love you, too.”

_There_. Finally, it was out there – a declaration that should have been spoken – _would_ have been spoken centuries ago had he been allowed do so without fear of Hell’s reprisal. 

He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “And yes, it _is_ sensual, watching the way you eat. I thought that would always be a one-way indulgence.”

“Something happened during the body-swap,” Aziraphale said. “It turns out that I enjoyed feeling your corporation rather more than I expected to.”

_Ah._ Was that a blush on the angel’s cheeks? “Did you now?”

Aziraphale looked down at the table top. “Yes. It felt – well – _stimulating_ in a way I’d not ever felt before. Extremely fluid and tactile, as if all I wanted to do was touch and feel and experience everything in a much more physical fashion. Very liberating, I must say.”

“Sorry I can’t say the same,” Crowley admitted. “Yours was a bit stiff everywhere at first.”

“Precisely my point! I had no idea anyone – that is, any of _us_ – could feel so _impassioned_.” He looked up. “When we swapped back, it was like going back to plain water after tasting the finest wine.”

“Really?” Crowley smiled. “Plain water? I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“Not at all. Yeah, your corporation was stiff at first, but I got used to it pretty quickly, and I found it very comfortable and _warm_. Not fiery, no – more soothing, yes. But not dull by any means.” He paused as he remembered the strange joy of being inside an _angel’s_ form. “And I felt brave, for some reason – as if I could handle anything.”

Aziraphale gave his hand one last caress before letting go. “ _Thank_ you.” He waved at a passing waiter. “I’d like to go back to the bookshop. With you, of course.”

Crowley finished the last of his champagne as more shivers ran down his spine. He knew they weren’t going to merely _talk_ once they were inside the bookshop. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Angel.”

After shutting the door behind them, Aziraphale led the way through the aisles towards the back room, where he didn’t stop. Instead, he took Crowley upstairs to a sitting room.

“Never been up here before.” Crowley looked round the room, with its heavy drapes, plush area rug, fireplace, over-large sofa. There was an open door at the other end, through which he caught a peek at a bed.

“I’m sorry I never asked you.” Aziraphale waved his hand at the fireplace, bringing the logs there ablaze.

“That’s all right. Didn’t ask you to my flat, either. Until you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“And until there was no more need to be cautious about our friendship.” He waved at the sofa. “Go on, sprawl away. Do you want tea? Cocoa?”

“Nope.” Crowley took off his sunglasses and set them on a small end table, then dropped onto the sofa in one fluid motion. He took his shoes off, then spread out the way he always did, stretching this way and that.

Aziraphale took off his coat and hung it up in a closet. Then he came over to join him, sitting down in that neat and prim manner of his. 

He looked at Crowley and shook his head. “This is what I was talking about earlier – look at you, all loose and relaxed, while here I sit as if there were a ruler up my back.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Crowley shifted closer to him. “I wouldn’t recognize you if you started sprawling about the furniture. I like how you sit. Nice and _stable_. How do you think I can survive being as impulsive and erratic as I am without you to _steady_ me when I need it?”

Aziraphale looked pensive. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Well, _do_ , because that’s the way it has to be.”

“Are you sure? I thought I could try – you know – loosening up a little, now and then.”

Crowley shook his head. “I _need_ you to be the way you are to stay in balance – you’re my foundation. _Don’t_ change.”

“But what about – I wanted to try to be more, um, you know – _sensual_.” He took a deep breath. “Or as near as I can manage it.”

“For my sake, or for yours?”

“What? Oh. Well, it’s just that I _did_ get a glimpse of what it could be like, feeling so physically free – that is, it seemed as if your body – your corporation – _you_ – needed to feel things more ardently, and I wanted to feel something akin at times – and I wanted you to feel that way towards me, and – and I’ve completely lost the thread of what you asked.”

With a heartfelt sigh, Crowley patted his arm lightly. “Don’t think about what I want.” The last thing he wanted was for Aziraphale to be uncomfortable around him, even though he longed for his touch. “Don’t do anything _you_ don’t want to do, Angel.”

“That’s the whole trouble. I don’t _know_ what I want.” He reached out to Crowley, hand on his shoulder. “How do I know what I want if I don’t _try_ it?”

Well, he did have a point. “All right,” Crowley relented. “But if you hate it, don’t lie.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Not that I know what to do, either,” Crowley admitted. Caress? Embrace? A kiss? “Can I just wrap an arm around you for now?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I should think that would be lovely.”

“Good.” He brought his sprawling limbs under more control and moved as close to Aziraphale as he could get, sitting side by side. Then he turned towards him and wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist as he slid down a ways, enough to rest his head comfortably on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

After an agonizingly long moment, Aziraphale brought his free arm around Crowley, resting his hand on his middle back. He started a slow, circular stroking.

_If that’s all I ever get, it’s enough_. “That feels nice.”

“It feels comfortable,” Aziraphale replied. “Everywhere.”

“Then we’re good so far.”

“Yes, I do believe we are.” 

Then Crowley felt the angel’s other hand brush through his hair. He let out a contented sigh. “Can I try that?”

“Of course.”

He tilted his head back as he reached a hand to the angel’s hair, while keeping his other arm around him. He ran his fingers through the light curls. “Hm. Softer than I imagined.”

“Oh? You imagined this, did you?”

“I might have. Once or twice.”

“My dear, you told _me_ not to tell any lies.”

“Right.” He’d been caught out. “Maybe a few hundred times, then. Or more.”

“Good to know.”

He let his fingers drift downward, caressing Aziraphale’s cheek. “I’ve had a lot of time to wonder.”

“Time to stop then, I think. Wondering, that is.” Aziraphale brushed his hand across Crowley’s forehead. “I think I know what I want.” His fingers drifted down his cheek, and paused to cup his chin.

A quiver of anticipation flew down Crowley’s spine. “ _Go on, then.”_

Aziraphale lifted his chin just a little – just enough – so that he could lean in to touch his lips to Crowley’s in a gentle kiss.

All too brief a touch, one that left him wanting. “Again?” 

“Yes.” 

Their lips met once more, and this time the touch lasted much longer, light at times, stronger at times, a little awkward here and there though it truly didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was that there was no hesitation on Aziraphale’s part. In fact, it was Crowley who broke away first, though only to whisper roughly, “If I ever tell you not to think about what I want again, tell me to shut it, please.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I can certainly do so. What _do_ you want?”

“More kisses – everywhere and anywhere you like.”

“It does feel nice, doesn’t it? I had no idea.”

Crowley placed a kiss on the angel’s forehead as he briefly tightened his embrace. “And I also want to stay here tonight.”

“I want that, too.” Aziraphale trailed kisses down Crowley’s face, touched his lips again ever so tenderly, and then continued on, kissing his throat.

“ _Ah_.” He definitely needed to return that favor, and soon. He tried to reach wherever he could in the meantime, which was mostly the top of the angel’s head. 

After some time, Aziraphale left off his explorations and allowed Crowley to leave delicate kisses on his cheeks and throat, where he ran into a certain bowtie.

“Um…Angel – how do you get this thing off?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Aziraphale deftly untied it and tossed it aside in an uncharacteristically casual manner. Then he undid the top few buttons of his shirt and vest. “Better?”

“Much.” Crowley kissed his chest. “Soft,” he murmured. Even the hairs there were soft. He slid a hand inside the shirt to start a gentle massaging motion. He felt Aziraphale tremble beneath him. 

“My dear, do you think we could go to the bed?”

Crowley felt the same trembling within his own limbs. “To sleep? Or – “ He couldn’t finish that thought. _Too fast_. All he needed was this closeness, and this loving touch. 

“Or –“ Aziraphale finished for him, “perchance to dream.”

_Yes_. He could dream, and he could sleep within his angel’s embrace. “I can do that.”

“I do love you.” Aziraphale took his hand and touched it to his lips. “Wherever we go, whatever we do, that will never change.”

_Sentimental angel_. Crowley had a sentiment or two himself from time to time. “Written in the stars, was it?”

“Of course it was. Didn’t you make some of them yourself?”

_Oh, yes._ “I did.”

“Then you know what’s up there, don’t you.”

_Love_. Love was up in the stars, the way that he made them. “Maybe I’ll show them to you someday.”

“In a way,” Aziraphale replied, “you already have.” He shifted out of their embrace to stand up, and held out his hand.

Crowley took it, allowing himself to be pulled up. 

He followed Aziraphale into the bedroom, not knowing what dreams would come – and knowing deep within his heart that everything he ever dreamt from this moment on would be imbued with love.


End file.
